


The Imperial Shadow

by Oricalle



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Character Study, Crimson Flower Route, Flashbacks, Gen, Secret Santa Gift 2019, Some Light Patricide, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21919558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oricalle/pseuds/Oricalle
Summary: Though the tides of war swell and the storm of life rages, Edelgard's shadow never leaves her side.(A Secret Santa Gift Fic for MLauren!)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	The Imperial Shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MLauren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MLauren/gifts).



Hubert’s most treasured memory began in the foyer of the palace in Enbarr. He was young, only barely able to read, and everything around him looked like it was forged by giants. Gilded statues of great men and women stood in the halls, casting their silent gazes in his direction, lording over him, judging him, offering a welcome and a warning.

This was a place for the devoted.

He had been lead into the throne room by his father, who smelled of cloying perfumes and freshly pressed robes. The scent of blood, for once, was absent from Count Vestra. He did not remember much of the opulent chambers, because his eyes would not stray from the imperious figure who sat upon the throne.

With his crimson robes and his golden crown, he looked the way Hubert had always imagined him. Shimmering and regal, with an air of danger. A Vestra could always sense the deadliest man in the room, and even flanked by a cadre of his royal guards, that was clearly Ionius IX.

“Count Vestra, scion of Vestra!” he called, his voice booming through the room. “Come forward.”

As his father began to walk, Hubert followed close at his heels, trying his best to appear taller than he really was. They stepped on a carpet that trailed down from the throne, and it was only then that Hubert noticed the young girl standing at the end of it.

She had long brown hair, tied tightly into a ponytail with a pink ribbon. Her clothes were red, the same color as the Emperor’s, and she was pressed up against his leg. This, he realized, had to be his charge.

The children of the Adrestian emperors always employed a retainer, though the title only communicated a fraction of the job’s duties. The retainers served as extensions of their lords’ and ladies’ wills, fulfilling tasks from negotiation to arranging meetings and banquets. He had even heard whispers of advisors who doubled as personal assassins. Although, admittedly, he had a hard time picturing this little girl ordering an assassination.

He had been training for what felt like his entire life to be an advisor to the Emperor’s daughter, and now, their eyes finally met. Even as a child, Hubert could see the determination buried in the princess’ eyes, seemingly determined not to blink, lest she show weakness.

“Edelgard,” Ionius began, rising from his seat and squatting next to his daughter. “This is Hubert, of House Vestra.” His voice was quieter now, soothing rather than commanding. “He is going to be your retainer. Will you greet him?”

Still not taking her gaze off of Hubert’s eyes, Edelgard extended her hand, stubby fingers splayed before her, mere inches from his face. 

“Hubert, it is an honor to make your ak-ayn-tance.” she said, not even noticing the way Ionius smiled and Count Vestra stifled a chuckle. Hubert, as he had been trained so many times to do, knelt upon the floor of the palace and lifted a hand, wrapping it around Edelgard’s.

“I am honored to meet you, Lady Edelgard.”

Ionius grinned before looking up at Count Vestra, decorum instantly returning to his features. “Shall we perform the oath?”

“Indeed, Your Highness.”

Almost too quickly, Ionius looked away, as if not wanting to look at the count any longer than he had to. Hubert knew well that their relationship was becoming less than cordial. His father tried to conceal his displeasure with the crown, but Hubert was a Vestra, and he often heard him bemoaning Ionius’ greed and ambition behind closed doors, complaining with his fellow noblemen about the unconventional emperor and his distrustful ways. In a way, Hubert knew he was a game piece, a token to strengthen connections between the Vestras and the Hresvelgs once more. It was a fate he had accepted.

Hubert dropped his head low, his eyes on the palace floor as Ionius began to speak in the voice that commanded the nation.

“I, Emperor Ionius IX, do hereby propose the appointment of Hubert von Vestra as the retainer to my daughter, Princess Edelgard von Hresvelg. Hubert, for what will you strive?”

“To fulfill my Lady’s goals.”

“For what will you fight?”

“To protect my Lady’s safety.”

“For what will you live?”

“For my Lady and Adrestia.”

“For what will you die?”

“For my Lady and Adrestia.”

Above him, Hubert heard the shifting of Ionius’ robes. “Edelgard, do you swear that together, you and Hubert will carry the hopes of the people of our land, and all Fodlan, into tomorrow?”

“I do, Father.”

“Stand, Hubert.”

As Hubert rose to his feet, he noticed Edelgard sidling up next to him, just now recognizing how diminutive her frame really was. The voice of the Emperor boomed once more.

“Princess Edelgard von Hresvelg, Hubert Von Vestra is hereby appointed as your royal retainer. May you ever fight for your people, and be blessed by the light of the Goddess.”

Behind Hubert, his father laid a hand on his shoulder approvingly, but his attention was fixed on Edelgard. There was a smile on her face, but a fire behind her eyes that he could not place. Somehow, he knew, they would go far together.

“Hubert?”

Edelgard’s voice ripped him from his memories, calling Hubert back to the present. A frigid downpour continued to drip across the open plains of Faerghus, making him rather thankful for the dark raincoat over his shoulders and the linen hood above his head.

Edelgard had refused such accomodations. As she calmly gripped the reins of her horse, her full regalia was on display to the surrounding troops. Crimson armor clung to her limbs, the replica relic Aymr was slung across her back, and the royal crown of the Adrestian Empire sat calmly atop the two buns woven into her hair, a style that he was amazed managed to survive the rainstorm. Perhaps it was the work of a mage. 

“Have you need of me, your Highness?” Hubert asked. He stroked the mane of his own steed as a bluster blew across the plain, reminding him once more of the bitter cold. “Would you like me to fetch a coat from the supply line?”

“No.” she responded, face set in a determined stare. “You just looked...distracted.”

“My apologies, Lady Edelgard.”

“No need.” Edelgard looked his way, an eyebrow raised. “It is not a problem. It’s simply...rare to see you without complete focus.” She pointed forward, towards a dark clump on the horizon. “We should reach Fhirdiad by nightfall.”

“Indeed.” Hubert scowled. “And the Immaculate One will surely be waiting.”

Edelgard nodded, a dour look falling over her features. “Of course. But the end to this war lies there as well. We must face Rhea.” She paused, the roar of the wind and rain growing to fill the silence. “Do you believe another battle will be necessary? Surely she will see reason...”

Hubert hummed. “Perhaps. But I shan’t pretend I have insight into the mind of that woman. We must be prepared for combat.”

He had known Edelgard long enough to be able to see when she was grappling with her own thoughts. Her shoulders tensed, and she sat rigidly upon her horse, lips closed in a tight line. She would not speak the words aloud, but he knew what was on her mind. The battle at the Tailtean Plains had resulted in massive casualties on all fronts, from their own forces, the Faerghus army, and the flanking troops of the Knights of Seiros. Death had always weighed heavily on Edelgard’s mind, despite how often she indulged in it, and he knew that one particular death was gnawing at her now.

“But, it is as you say.” he continued. “This shall be the final battle of this war, one way or another. And when Fodlan is united, we may begin the remainder of our duties in full.” He was unsure who was listening, but knew Edelgard would know the mission to which he was referring. Hubert von Vestra had little experience in comforting others, nor did he particularly want it, but he allowed himself to take pleasure in the spark of hope that seemed to light up Edelgard’s features, reminded of the reason for all they had done.

“Of course.” Edelgard replied, a confident grin surfacing. “We will forge a brighter tomorrow from the dark of this night.” Something behind her eyes gleamed, a look Hubert had grown used to. “Will you remain by my side while we do so?”

Hubert’s grip tightened on the reins of his horse, shifting pressure away from the scar on the heel of his right hand.

“Would I have come this far if I intended to leave, Your Highness?”

The last time Hubert had returned to the Vestras’ ancestral lands, it was under the cloak of midnight. Edelgard had urged caution, backup, some sort of contingency, but this was one of the few matters on which Hubert was willing to ignore his mistress. This was something he had resolved to do alone.

He slunk onto the manor grounds like a shadow, unseen and unheard as he crept his way towards the gates. The sounds of clashing blades resounded from the training hall, even now, an additional cover for his footsteps. The Vestras had never been much for daylight. He dodged out of the way of the guards’ patrol routes, believing full well that he could dispatch them, but not wanting to spill any more blood than was necessary. It was not a matter of mercy, of course, simply one of frugality, wishing to conserve as many trained soldiers as possible for the days that would come.

As he reached the outside of his father’s manse, he slid against the wall, moving slowly along the cool outer stones. Peering into the adjacent window, he could see a shadowed figure slumped over a desk, writing urgently by flickering candlelight. 

He had often told his father that having his study on the ground floor was foolish, but the elder Vestra had dismissed his concerns. In a way, Hubert relished, this was pleasantly ironic. He waved his hand, feeling the mystic energy coil in his fingers, and unleashed a burst of power at the aged glass. As it shattered, he brought up his other palm, catching the shards in stasis with a practiced motion and keeping them from tinkling against the ground. As Hubert crept through the hole in the window, his father seemed none the wiser, his attention still focused on the parchment before him.

But Hubert, even now, was a Vestra. He saw the way the pen stopped, feather rigid in the air, heard the way his father’s breathing hitched, and could follow the minute movements of his cloak as his hand crept beneath the desk. Reacting accordingly, he raised his right hand, and was already beginning to channel the defensive spell when Count Vestra suddenly swiveled around, leaping to his feet and hurling a hidden knife directly at the intruder. Hubert felt a searing pain in his palm as his father brandished a larger blade, preparing to rush him. He focused on the blood dripping from his recent wound, letting the pain fuel him as he unleashed a burst of darkness, pulsing and terrible as it crawled through the open air. Count Vestra juked out of the way, twisting his body to avoid the orb of malice, and putting him directly in the path of Hubert’s second strike. Dark lightning extended from his fingers, sending searing bolts of pain directly into the elder Vestra’s heart. With a scream, the Count crumpled to the floor, his sword clattering as it skidded away.

Hubert stalked forward, over the floorboards he had tread as a boy, murder in his heart but serenity on his face. As his father writhed, struggling to get to his knees, he reached into the pocket of his cloak and withdrew a silver knife. 

“Why, Hubert?” moaned Count Vestra. “Why would you betray your own father?”

“You knew.” Hubert replied, turning the knife around in his fingers. “You knew what they would do to her.”

The Count wheezed, blood dripping from the edge of his mouth. “I did what was necessary! The Hresvelg line was poisoning the Empire with incompetence! This was the only way to protect Adrestia...the only way to protect you!”

“Everything I do is for Her Highness.” Hubert said. “Edelgard sees a better world beneath the waste that you have made of this one. I will not have a rat like you poisoning her efforts.”

Weakly, Count Vestra spat blood, letting it spatter across Hubert’s shoes. “This is foolish, Hubert! Do you truly believe that my death will fulfill her grand designs?”

With a smirk, Hubert leaned down, gripping his father’s chin. “Your death is only the first.” he hissed, then drew his blade across the Count’s throat.

When his father’s guards finally arrived, Hubert was sitting in a chair above the corpse, a cup of coffee waiting in his hands.

“Adelbert von Vestra has been executed for treason.” Hubert stood, eyeing the head guard with an intensity to show that he would not be trifled with. “I am assuming the position of Count Vestra. Prepare the reserve, we mobilize for war.”

Amid the burning towers of Fhirdiad, shoes slick with ash and blood, Hubert found himself with no time to wonder about what the future would hold. Before him were the corpses of Adrestian soldiers and Knights of Seiros alike, captured in their final breaths where the cobblestone lane opened into the city center.

There, in all her otherworldly glory, was the Immaculate One, equal parts gorgeous and petrifying, white flames licking from her scaled maw as she released an ear-rending roar. From the west, Hubert could see Edelgard, her armor dented and scuffed, climbing atop a heap of rubble, Professor Byleth standing at her side.

“Rhea!” she called, loud enough to overtake the sound of distant battle and hissing embers, “Your reign ends here! Stand down!” In her hands, Aymr pointed at the dragon before her. She was a mere young woman challenging an ancient demigod, but Hubert knew who would be victorious. He had known since the day he met Edelgard that the look behind her eyes would never be dulled, never dampened, never defeated. Since she returned from the dungeons below Castle Enbarr, cold and scarred and filled with revenge, Hubert had known where their path would lead. This was merely the logical conclusion. Behind him, he could hear the swishing of Dorothea’s robes as the Gremory rushed to meet him, but Hubert’s eyes were locked on the confrontation ahead.

With a defiant bellow, the draconic form of the Archbishop swung her massive tail. Edelgard brought up her shield, but the effort proved fruitless. Rhea’s tail slammed into the debris below Edelgard, and the massive force swept Edelgard’s footing from under her, sending both the Emperor and the Professor tumbling to the scorched city streets.

“Edie!” Dorothea shouted. She began to hurl magic at the dragon, bolts of flame and bursts of ice, but the arcane energy didn’t even seem to register with Rhea. She raised a claw, a booming voice emitting from her chest.

“Wretched rebellious child, your heresy condemns you! Prepare to burn!”

In that moment, Hubert remembered the oath he had made, his words to Ionius ringing in his ears. Long ago, he had made a promise, and the time had come to make good on it.

He stepped out of the alley, a ball of black magic churning in his hands.

“Rhea! Look upon me, false Goddess!”

“Hubie!” Dorothea’s hand was outstretched, beckoning him back into safety, but Hubert never saw it. The loyal retainer strode forward, arms spread, a smirk on his face as he approached the towering shapeshifter. The Immaculate One tilted her head in his direction, a low growl rumbling from her. Hubert released his charged spell, sending an orb of darkness careening into the eyes of the great creature before him. She howled with rage as it connected, turning her massive form in his direction.

“Traitor! Defiler!”

Hubert’s sneer deepened as he prepared another spell, malefic energy pulsing through his body. “I am no traitor, dragon. I have ever held but one allegiance, and to her, I have always been faithful.” He attacked once more, the dark magic doing little more than angering Rhea further.

“Arrogant human! You would face me alone?” As the dragon reared back her head, Hubert threw his own back, watching the rain drip from the sky above.

A young Hubert stood in silence beneath an umbrella, a few yards into the woods behind the Hresvelg’s summer palace. The rain was pouring down, and it was all he could do to keep the umbrella steady in the storm. At his feet, Edelgard was kneeling in the mud, diligently moving precious stones she’d stuffed in the pockets of her gown. 

In the few months that had passed since her return, the worst of the scarring had faded as to be nearly invisible. She no longer had to wear a hat to hide the choppy clumps of her old brown hair that mixed in with her new pale white, and she was once again able to leave her chambers and play the part of the princess, but Hubert knew well that Edelgard would never be the same.

“It’s ready.” she whispered.

As she stood, Hubert could see a pattern of ten gems carefully embedded in the dirt. It could not compare one of the marbled tombs or gilded monuments that dotted the royal cemetery, but it was all that the Hresvelg siblings would receive. For a few minutes, the pair stood in silence, watching as the raindrops splashed against the ramshackle memorial.

“I’m going to change things.” Edelgard whispered. “I’m going to tear down this horrid world and all the terrible things that rule it.” Her eyes were wide as she looked up at her retainer. “Even if I must do it alone.”

Hubert shook his head.

“My lady. So long as I live, you shall never be alone.”

As the white flames enveloped Hubert’s body, replacing every sense he knew with pain, he could see, from the corner of his vision, Edelgard rising to her feet, Aymr gripped tightly in her hands. He saw the horror on her face, watched her mouth out his name as tears sprang to her eyes, but he could no longer respond.

He would have told her that this was the most meaningful death he could have wished for, that he was proud to give his life for hers and for Fodlan, but as the life burned away from Hubert von Vestra, all he could do was to gaze up at the dark skies above.

A crack in the clouds greeted him before his eyes finally shut.

Days later, an eleventh stone would be added to the hidden monument. A testament to a faded shadow.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, MLauren! When I got you as my Secret Santa giftee, I checked your AO3 profile and found that you mentioned that Hubert died in the final chapter of your first CF playthrough. That really inspired me with narrative stuff, so I decided to use it as my starting point! I hope it's up to your standards!
> 
> Special thanks to madocallie/bergamot for beta reading this fic! Thank you so much for helping me find a proper characterization for Count Vestra! (Have you read Hubert's supports with Hanneman? I hadn't! You should!)


End file.
